Survival of the Fittest
by Mpro1
Summary: Guys...lets be real, I abandoned this 5 years ago. IM SO SORRY. Thank you to all who reviewed and took the time to read my work. Some day I will be back, and I will finish it, but give me another 5yrs. Summary: Alex Rider returned from a possible watery grave only to be captured by the MI6. This time he isn't being recruited. This time he doesn't have a choice. After Ark Angel.
1. Survival and Capture

A/N:Hello! This is my first fanfic. I hope you enjoy reading this first chapter. Please, review and tell me what you think-what needs to be worked on or what you think I did well. It will really help mefor the following chapters (and my English essays but that's besides the point)

Disclaimer: I do not own anything and/or anyone in the Alex Rider series. Even the world I create around the already know characters and places are still not mine-they belong to Anthony Horowits alone. (Anyways, If I did own this, that would mean that I'm a published, best selling author and would not be wasting my time writing on this site. JK!)

Chapter 1: Survival and Capture

It was cold. Ice cold. Alex Rider's whole body shook from the freezing effects of paddling water for what felt like an eternity. He was clinging to a scrap of plastic, his lifeline that he'd managed to remove from the shuttle not moments before it sunk. His hands had long ago pruned and were now turning blue. He had lost all feeling in his feet and lower body. The panic that had once taken a hold of him was starting to fade, like the rest of the world. It could not have been more than an hour, but to Alex, time seemed to stretch and become as vast as the ocean. The comforting grip of sleep was beginning to claim him. Alex tried to recount his years back in school, long before he became a spy, but even those memories seemed foggy and distant. He would have been angry but it took too much energy to even pull a frown. Seconds, possibly minutes passed, but not a sound was made with the exception of the constant metronome of the ocean and an occasional squawk of a sea bird.

Alex's eyes began to slowly slide shut, as it seemed he was losing the war with himself. He didn't notice when the distant sound of a helicopter grew closer, and then to finally stop above his head. He didn't notice men shouting, or a rope slap the surface of the water next to him. He didn't even notice when strong arms grabbed a hold of his limp body and a familiar voice whispered soothing words into his ear.

"We've got you Alex. Just hang in there. You're gonna' be alright."

It seemed that Alex Rider, the teenage super spy, was gone.

The dull roar of a popular café barely registered in the ears of one young boy. He sat alone at a cheep wooden table wearing an empty look that reveled nothing of the emotional war waging within his mind. His hand moved in small, pointless circles as he absently stirred the straw of his lemonade. A single finger was dragged along the side of the cup, creating swirling patterns in the residue buildup. To an outsider, this boy appeared relaxed; his shoulders were not tight with tension and his face was impassionate. Only his eyes gave anything away. Those blue orbs sparkled with raw anger. They seemed to scream out years of pent up frustration. For a split moment, an emotion rippled across his face. Then, there was nothing. The anger in his eyes drained away as if a vacuum had suddenly sucked away all feeling, positive or negative. He remained as this empty shell for a few minutes, unaware of the families and couples passing in and out of the café. Their laughter meant nothing to him. If anything, it brought up feelings he preferred to keep suppressed.

Working for the MI6 guaranteed a life with danger, life without a family, and most certainly a life without rest. His last mission had ended similar the five before. He had nearly died of hypothermia and had spent a restless week in a hospital. Only twice did the MI6 come to visit him. Both times, he had wanted to strangle them. His first visitor, Mrs. Jones, had tried to apologize and tell him what a good job he'd done. Just like the last five times. His second visitor, Wolf, had provided little comfort but displayed a great amount of concern. This display of kindness surprised Alex, but also stirred the feeling of suspicion. Wolf had offered compliments and minimal support, but his beating around the bush ended when he bluntly said that Alex was needed for another mission.

_There was a moment of silence where neither moved. Alex glanced up into the face of someone whom he'd come to believe a friend. The look was cold and filled with loathing. _

"_Get out," said Alex in a dangerously soft voice. When Wolf didn't move Alex nearly yelled, "get out and never come back. Send me to an orphanage for all I care. I'll never work for you again!" _

_A look of pain crossed Wolf's handsome features. "Cub, Alex. You have to. You know Blunt, he wants YOU and will rest at nothing till he gets what he wants."_

_"I don't care."_

_"I'm only trying to make this easier for you. We may leave you alone for the moment, but we will come back at any point in time and we may not be so friendly." He said it kindly, but the threat was obvious. Wolf's only response was the soft ticking of a small, blue clock, which lay, mounted on the cream colored wall of the hospital room. The SAS group commander nodded his head and walked silently out the room. Alex refused to watch him leave, but couldn't help but feel like a part of him had fallen into a chasm; like he had just lost the only friend he had left. They were all his enemies, all of them._

SWOSH!

The boy's head snapped up. He ran his hand through his dirty blond hair in a casual manor as his eyes scored the restaurant. The boy's whole demeanor had changed in half a second.

Voices. Several voices all the sudden began to talk in a jumbled mummer that stood out above the rest. The boy's eyes immediately glanced towards every exit without even at twitch of his head. A group of young men entered the café, talking loudly, dressed casually, and glancing in Alex's direction every few steps. They all were well built, had the same haircut, and wore the same look on their faces. They appeared like soldiers from an army, or the SAS. It could be a coincidence, but coincidences, as he had learned, where never a part of the spy world. Things happed for a reason. This was no coincidence. There were here for him. They were going to force him to come quietly or else disrupt the public in which they would make him out to be a fool or crazy.

The boy stood suddenly. His hand disappeared into the back pocket of his jeans, bringing out a brown, snake skin wallet. He removed a ten-pound note and slapped it loudly onto the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw all the men pause and watch him make his leave. They waited a few seconds before following in what appeared a casual manor to the untrained eye.

Alex picked up his pace as soon as the he heard the reassuring click of the door shutting behind him. Cars flew by in colored blurs as he sprinted down the sidewalk.

SWOSH!

There it was again! It didn't take Alex long to figure they were shooting tranquilizer darts or something of equal threat at him. He pushed his legs harder as the severity of the situation rung in his head. The MI6 weren't asking for his services this time. They weren't even threatening him in any way. This time they were going to force him. Alex rounder the corner of Baker St. and Clermont Ave., only to stop dead in his tracks. A single figure stood in his way. The lone man was Wolf.

He was dressed in civilian clothing; a navy blue t-shirt that concealed his muscles, baggy blue jeans and a backwards cap that read NIKE.

"Alex, I will only ask-"

"No!" Alex screamed. All noise and bustling action of daily city life faded away. Wolf was the only ting Alex could focus his mind on. Wolf and the MI6 that he was a part of. "I'm not going to stand here and listen to the crap you've been telling me even since my uncle died. I won't work for you. I'm not going to work for the MI-"

Wolf made a sharp gesture with his hand and another hand smothered Alex's mouth, muffling the rest of his sentence. He'd been so intent on yelling at Wolf that he'd forgotten his pursers that he had escaped from at the restaurant.

Alex squirmed and twisted in his captor's arms, but no to avail. Wolf shook his head sadly and gestured sideways. Alex was dragged unwilling into the shadow of an ally. Someone handed his old friend a small, tube shaped object. Alex began to struggle harder as he realized what it was he held. He refused to become a prisoner of the MI6. It would not happen.

Wolf extended his hand towards Alex's arm and the sharp prick of a needle stung his flesh. The world began to swim dangerously and his struggles gradually weakened. The last words he heard were, "I'm sorry Alex." Then everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2: Unbalanced Negotiations

A/N: Hey everyone! Thanks so much for the reviews! I logged on and imagine my surprise when I see I have 7 reviews, not even 24 hours after I posted it! I literally hesitated before reading them-I was so nervous! (You may think this is odd, but I've never had the public read my writing before. Only my dad, my English teacher, and two of my friends have ever read my work. So, you can see why I might be a touch nervous to see what you all think.

I hope you enjoy reading this chapter. I don't know how great it sounds because I'm really sick (I'm coughing like crazy and I've blown my nose so many times, I'm starting to look like Rudolph the red nosed reindeer...but you didn't have to know that) and I'm also on vacation. (It is really a sad thing to be sick on vacation) I have very little time to write, so I'm sorry if this doesn't sound as good. I can't tell, though, it might be. This is longer, but longer isn't always better. I will, or I hope so anyways, update more frequently than this, but…you know why this is an exception. Enjoy!

Oh, and the disclaimer is at the top of the first chapter for any of you who still don't believe that I'm not Anthony Horowitz. (I think you're crazy, but I'm flattered nevertheless. )

Chapter 2: Unbalanced Negotiations

Alex Rider woke up to a bare, white washed room. He lay in a stiff cot that hung on rusted chains from a water-stained ceiling. The cot itself had a touch of dampness and, what he believed to have once been a white mattress was now turning an odd shade of yellow. Alex gingerly sniffed the air surrounding the cot before recoiling sharply in disgust. A Fowl waft of odor assaulted Alex's nose in strong waves as he sprung off the bed in reflex. His shoe-less feet made a soft patter as they landed on a metal floor. The ground was ice cold, and vaguely reminded him of his last mission.

Alex slammed his fist angrily onto the wall. The echo of vibrating metal rung his ears as the sound rebounded off the walls. He realized for the first time since waking up, that he is in a prison cell. One heavy metal door that he had failed to notice earlier stood alone in the opposite corner. He paused, and listened. As the faint remains of the ringing metal slowly died, all he heard was his own soft breath.

Alex dropped to the floor in hopeless frustration. All he could do now was wait.

Three hours later, the metal door banged open and in stepped Wolf. He was back in uniform and once again wore his old look of cool confidence. Alex shot up off the ground in uncontrolled anger.

"What is this?' he yelled. His words resounded throughout the room, giving them more power than he intended. "Why the hell am I here?"

Wolf remained still and neutral, a credit to his training, while most others would cringe at the intensity of the boy's words. "Alex. You are needed," was all he said. He walked up to Alex and grabbed a firm hold of his upper arm. Wolf steered an angry and struggled Alex out of the cell and down a maze of hallways. After a few minutes, Alex gave up his fight. Wolf was too strong. They approached an all too familiar door and Alex had to suppress heaving a groan. A single silver plaque was mounted at eye level, reading **Alan Blunt **in bold, black letters. Wolf gave a quick twist of the handle, pushed open the door and thrust the boy in.

Alan Blunt was seated in a typical grey revolving office chair. His impeccably clean and polished black shoes were perched atop an expensive wooden desk. Numerous stacks of papers littered his desk, along with post-it notes, pens, pictures of C/O's and files. He wore the same grey and black striped tie with the same grey pants and, most likely, the same grey jacket. One could only hope that his _white _shirt was not the same.

Blunt, apparently obvious to the entrance of the two men, lazily twirled a pair of _brown_-rimed glasses, his eyes unfocused, staring blankly into space.

Wolf coughed lightly. Alan Blunt slowly turned around, his gaze suddenly snapping back into the present. The dull, lifeless eyes of an overworked, middle age man shifted from a young, distraught looking teen to a clam and passive officer.

"Ah, Alex Rider. Teenage spy prodigy. How kind of you to join us," said Blunt in a bored voice.

Alex looked ready to retort with a nasty comment, but held back, waiting to hear just what this man had to say.

Dull, grey eyes peered at him, seemly searching for something that wasn't there.

"Nothing?" Blunt asked. "Ah, well, all he better. You're probably wondering why you're here. I'm going to be straight with you, Alex. We need your help."

Alex stared at him as if he were a homeless drunk that had just asked for a job. "You're asking for my help?" he said incredulously. "My help? You kidnap me and lock me in a cell and now you're asking for my help?" Anger coursed through his veins like poison. It burned every inch of his body from the scalp of his head to the tips of his toes. He felt his face flush with anger.

Alan gave as short, humorless bark of laughter. "You're right. See, this is why we like you. You're a sharp boy. No, we aren't asking for your help. Let me rephrase that. We need your services and we will get them. The fate of the world is at stake again. You've saved the world more than anyone else so we're assuming you can do it again."

Alex snorted in attempt to dismiss his own anger before he did something rash. "Well, you assumed wrong."

"No, Alex. We did not. You might fail, but you have a better chance than anyone else, from any agency."

Alex glanced behind him at Wolf. He stood in proper but relaxed stance; his feet spread with his hands clasped behind his back. Wolf did not acknowledge his gaze, but stared fixedly at Blunt. For a second, Alex could have sworn a small smile tugged at the corner of his face, but it was gone before he could even blink.

"What about Wolf?" he spat the name out like a curse word. "Mr. Perfect here can do it. He's more qualified than me, I can't see why not." A sneer crossed his face. "Unless this is a mission that most likely will have no return."

For a moment, Alan blunt, the master of no emotions, looked uncomfortable. In that second, all of his fears were confirmed. Alex's eyes widened in horror. They couldn't do this to him. There was no way, as heartless as these people were, they wouldn't, no, _couldn't_ send him in on a no return mission.

"N-No," he stuttered. "No. You can't do this." He backed up straight into Wolf who was now looking at him, wearing a look of pain. "Where's Mrs. Jones." No one answered. "Where is she!" he screamed into the quiet room.

"I'm sorry Alex, but she had to be let go for unfortunate reasons."

Alex's horror grew as realization dawned on him. "You fired her? You did, didn't you. Just because she spoke out against what you're doing to me."

Blunt slowly removed his glasses and tiredly rubbed his eyes. "I'm really very sorry. She threatened the whole security of our company. Be happy that I was to close to her to have her killed." He heaved a deep, weary sigh.

"Alex, welcome to the real spy world. You're about to become a K officer.

Alex sputtered, "A K officer?"

Blunt sighed again. "A K officer is an officer someone who, as you know works for us, but has their entire life history erased. They go into a mission as a new person, someone who they will be for the rest of their life. This is a dangerous mission, Alex. You will go into this lifetime mission as our spy, but if caught, you will not be saved by us. We have no claim over you. There will be no record of you ever even going on this mission in the agency. Only Wolf, here, and I will know."

Alex shut his eyes. He brought his hands up to cover his face as if hiding from the world would make all his troubles better. "There is no way you can force me into this. I will not do it. You can send me to an orphanage, threaten to get rid of Jack or anything else, but I won't do it."

"Oh, Jack's already been taken care of. Here's the letter you sent her last night."

A single sheet of crumpled binder paper was handed to him. Alex nearly ripped it out of the man's hand, roughly unfolded it and began to read-his devastation growing with every word. In is own handwriting was a letter that he did not, and would never, write. He ignored the feeling of two pairs of eyes that bore into his back and the small dribble of blood that flowed from the side of his left index finger where the paper had cut him.

Dear Jack,

I know that you might find this odd, but I've decided to do something with my life. I'm tired of being used by the MI6. No one else but you can understand my wanting of a new life so I'm sorry to say, Jack, but I don't need you to be my caretaker anymore. Please understand, It's for the best for both of us. I've left you some money and the house if you want to keep it, otherwise you can go back to America and enjoy your life there. I'll miss you.

Forever yours,

Alex

Alex dropped the letter in shock. They could not have done this to her. They may have messed up his life, but to do this to Jack, who had no relations of any kind to the spy world, was terrible.

He glanced up the man who had first made his life this living hell. The man, Blunt, was gazing back at him as if daring Alex to strike out, to say something.

"And this," he continued on, handing another over another letter, "is a copy of the letter your guardian sent to the school this morning."

Dear the Board head of Education,

I am sorry to inform you that Alex Rider will no longer be attending your school. He has applied and been accepted to a prestigious boarding school in Switzerland. As of today, he will no longer show up for classes. I thank you for your understanding and cooperation.

Sincerely,

Jack Starbright

His whole body trembled and his grip tightened on the thing sheet of paper. It was too much. Everything in his live was now a lie. Before, he lied about his 'profession' and identity, but now he would never have to lie about his identity. He was, from this point on a different person.

"From now on you will be know as Daniel, or as you prefer to be called, Danny Maccoy. You will have your fingerprints burned off and if anyone asks, a pot of oil was spilled on your hands-a terrible accident really. The doctors were able to fix the skin around the hand, but the fingers were too delicate of a place to fix. We will have your appearance changed; you will dress a different style-preppy, if that's what you kids call it. You will still not have parents, but a guardian who doesn't really care much for you. We will create a way for you to periodically contact us, but you will have not gadgets like your pervious missions. You will be briefed by Wolf in a secure location within the hour, so enjoy your last few moments of being Alex Rider. This will be the last time anyone will ever address you by that name."

Alex's breaths came in short, quick gasps. He didn't dare make eye contact with either men standing in the room. Beads of sweat slowly slid down the side of his face. One droplet landed on the tips of his lashes. He blinked furiously, but made no movement to wipe it away.

"What If I don't do it," Alex asked slowly. "Are you going to kill me?"

For the first time in his life, Alan Blunt smiled. It was shallow and cold. His white teeth that most people didn't even know he had shone brightly in the yellow light of a solitary desk lamp. "I don't think that will be a problem. Whom will you go to? Remember, _Danny_, Alex Rider doesn't exist. According to the data bases of the world, a boy by this name was never born."

Wolf tentatively reached out and placed a strong hand on the boy's shoulder. Alex didn't have the heart to shake it off despite his deep wanting to lash out at the young man who brought him here. The hand led him out of the room, but just before the sound proof door of Alan Blunt's room shut, Alex heard his monotone voice drift lightly down the hall.

"You are a K officer, now. And for K officers, there is no return."

A/N: Just a quick note. Some of you will probably ask me what a C/O is. C/O stands for Case Officer, AKA-spy. I don't know about Brittan, but in the US, spies who work for their own country are called officers. Agents are people recruited by Officers to betray their own country by giving information to another government-the government that the Officer is from. I don't know how many of you know about the real spy world, but the main job of case officers is to recruit agents and gather information from them…not pull and Alex Rider and break into buildings or rid the world of a bomb that's moments from detonation. And I'm pretty sure I made clear what a K officer is. If not, ask me and I'll clarify. (This turned out to be a bit longer note than I had originally planed.) I hope this clears things up. Oh, and **_please review_**. Thanks! Mpro1


	3. Danny Who?

A/N: Once again, thanks for the reviews. I just wanted to say sorry for the MAJOR spelling mistake. I've fixed Alan…I had it originally spelled as Allen. (Oops!) Oh and for anyone who's wondering, Danny Maccoy is an original name. Someone thought I took it from some other story, but I **_did not_** steel it. I totally made it up. Actually, the name itself has a funny story, but let's not get into that. In addition, the term K officer did come from one of Andy Ryan's books. I do believe it is a very real concept, but who knows, I could be wrong. I have heard many other names, but my fave is k officer, hence the reason I used it. This chapter is a bit mellower than the last two, but it's setting up the action for chapter 4… (((Note: Also, for some really odd reason, I can't get a space between paragraphs, so it's obviously a change in topic/new scene, but it does't look any different. Sorry!)))

Please fell free to correct any of my other mistakes, regardless of how minor you think they are. (Correct me; just don't kill me for it.) I know I have quite a few spelling mistakes-It's just something I do. So please, point them out so I won't make a total fool of myself in front of every single reader who is kind enough to read my fic…

And I wanted to say ahead of time that I have nothing against yoga. Personally, I love it and take it myself. You don't understand this proclamation now, but you will after the second paragraph. TTYL!

One more short note to Air Element: I hope you're reading this because I worked _really _hard to have it done. I hope this is worth every minute you spend of your weekend time reading it!

**REVIEW, REVIEW, AND … WAIT, NO--YES, REVIEW! **Just tell me what you think.

Chapter 3: Danny Who?

_Slim fingers gently tapped the surface of a glass table. The irritating rhythmic beat matched the mood of a woman who was edging away from her prime. She sat tall and proper; shoulders squared and the air surrounding her sent off waves of self-confidence. In other words, she held the poise of a figure with power._

_She shut her eyes in weary resentment. 'Breath in, Breath out. Center the mind. Let out all negative thoughts and feelings…' Her eyes snapped open. It was pointless; all of the yoga business was useless crap. _

_Mrs. Jones angrily stood from her small but classy kitchen table. Nearly everything in her new flat was calm and classy with a simple elegance. She was someone who believed simplicity to be the best policy for all aspects of life. Unfortunately, she had once been a part of a world that was anything but simple. That world was the world of intelligence. It was a complex network of lies, wily officers, and perilous danger. The people within such an organization were skilled artisans of deception who traipsed throughout the globe, taking advantage of the week or killing the useless. No one was safe from such an agency that dared to claim themselves protectors of their people. Not even youngsters, who retained the sweet innocence of childhood, could remain outside the suffocating grasp of the MI6._

_One boy, though, one boy was like no other case officer that had walked down the silent halls of headquarters. Every officer that was sent on a mission had walked the same path as he. All of them, save this single boy, kept walking to the rhythm of the agency. This boy quit walking the narrow and condemning path long before his job had begun. He forged his own path to follow his rules, his command. However, the agency gets what the agency wants. They let him walk his path, so long as they were able to curve it back in their favor._

_Mrs. Jones rushed to find her purse and car keys. She would help save Alex Rider if it were the last thing she did. Alan Blunt thought he had laid the perfect trap. He believed by simply changing the name he could change the boy inside. _

_She smiled grimly as she remembered fond memories of the boy's stubbornness. 'Danny', she though. It was all she had overheard in a private conversation between Wolf and Blunt regarding Alex's mission. 'But Danny who?' _

Alex sat across from the SAS commando in a large, brown leather couch. The room reminded Alex of a cross between a prison cell and an office. The atmosphere was dark and depressing; the kind that weighed heavily on the occupant's mood. The off-white walls were thick and most likely soundproof, giving off the feeling of everything being condensed inward.

Wolf carefully studied every small movement Alex made as if trying to anticipate an escape. The boy seemed oddly resigned and disconsolate, two words that would never normally describe the teen spy prodigy.

"Are you done watching me? Obviously, I can't go anywhere. If I could, I'd be long gone," Alex snapped. The cold sharpness in his voice, like the tip of a knife, slit through Wolf's musings. His head snapped up to look the boy in the eye. He assumed a professional posture and the life in his eyes withdrew back into the lonely protection of his inner self, becoming blank and uncaring.

"Danny Maccoy was born in 1991in Chester, England. Your parents, Stan and Monica Maccoy were sadly killed in a car crash after colliding with a drunk driver who spun out of control in a narrow and windy road. A highly unfortunate trauma that will draw upon people's sympathy if you play the part right, keeping them away from asking about specific details. You are now living and being taken care of by the twenty six year old son of your father's best friend. He is Ace Gundling, originally born in India while his parents were on a business trip there. At six months, he was brought back to England where he spent the rest of his life in the suburbs of London- an easy commute for his father who has a job in the city. You do not need to know the specifics of his life, but you will be given a file on him, nonetheless.

"You will be attending Mount Shutlar High School as a freshman. Details on the school and it's people will also be included in your file. You will be living three blocks from the school in a small townhouse. Next-door is an old man by the name of Kevin or Kev, as he likes to be called, Bodanstat. He dislikes loud noises or any kind of animal so I sincerely hope you don't have any pets."

At these words, Wolf paused to take out another file from a padlocked cabinet. He withdrew a single, tan envelope that was stuffed full with papers. "Ah, here we go," he continued on, "your assignment. A group known as the Cessations Incognito Asperser, easier translated as deaths unknown enemy, is believed to be using this school as a scouting zone for young and future assassins. This group is not all that different from Scorpia. The only thing that separates them from Scorpia is the size and, well, one could say popularity. This specific situation came to our attention after a number of the students would suddenly become busy every weekend, and gradually become more aggressive and intense. Your job is to be selected by these people."

Alex swallowed nervously. The thin flap of leather between his fingers was twisted to its full extent as his hands itched to fiddle with anything that could take his mind off this new reality. "What," he croaked, "what happens if I'm not accepted? Worse yet, what happens if I am?"

"If you aren't accepted, then you will try to befriend someone who is. If that doesn't work, then you will still continue living your life as Danny Maccoy, but with nothing accomplished. We have full confidence in you Alex," he continued on in a lighter tone, "that you are fully capable of successfully completing this mission."

"But what will happen if I'm accepted?" Alex asked again. The answer could be anything, and the possibilities scared him.

"We don't know. As easy as this sounds, Alex, this is a terribly dangerous mission. The last person who went on a mission similar to this was your father. I don't mean to bring up feelings like this, Cub, but you can see how well his mission ended, and he was no K officer. He was simply under a cover that got blown."

Alex nodded his head in a distracted understanding. He knew this mission was likely to have a deadly ending if everything turned out the way both Wolf and Blunt believed. They normally took extended measures to obscure the difficulty and danger of a mission. The fact that they were warning him was scaring Alex worse than the mission itself.

"Just one more question," Alex said. "Who's Ace?"

For the first time that day, a deadly smile crossed Wolf's features. "Me"

"Welcome, to Mount Shutlar High School, Mr. Maccoy. I hope you'll find the students and staff most welcoming." The Principal, an old lady with a limp, smiled a wide, yellow toothed smile. She wore a tight, velvet green suit that showed every curve her body lacked. In one hand, she held a wooden cane that looked weathered with years of use.

Alex weakly returned the smile. Unlike his last school, this school did not require a uniform. He had tried to keep his outfit simple by wearing a plain pair of jeans, a black shirt and an old track jacket. On his right shoulder, he had slung a battered school backpack with all the necessary materials Wolf had rather unkindly shoved into his arms just as he was leaving the house.

"Thank you, Ms. Givens," he replied politely. In return, the principal broadened her smile. Alex took a small step backwards as the smell of her breath brought his breathing to a choking halt. He coughed softly to cover his grimace of disgust. "Excuse me. I'm just getting over a mild cold."

Ms. Givens nodded her head in understand. "This way please." Her hand jerked sharply in the direction of the school, a motion he assumed to be a casual wave. "You'll be given your schedule shortly. On the sheet, in the upper right hand corner will be the name of your assigned 'buddy', who we make sure you have all your classes with. This student will show you to every class and introduce you to fellow classmates. If you have any problems with your assistant, please tell any of the faculty or me. We're all happy to help."

She led Alex into the main office where she barked out a command to a secretary behind the desk. The lady, who couldn't be any older than twenty five, jumped out of her chair and began hastily rummaging through a stack of papers.

Alex looked away, examining all he could see of the rest of the school. The buildings were impressive in size and architecture. Its numerous peaks and large, glass windows gave the school a castle like appearance. A yellow paper was shoved in front of his face. Alex reflexively snatched the paper and swung around to face his adversary. His arms came half way up into combat position, but he caught himself, continuing the motion as smoothly as he could. He let one hand readjust his pack, and the other run through his hair. He smiled innocently; trying to ignore the odd look Ms. Givens wore her face. She gazed at him for a moment longer, her mouth twitching in a way that tickled Alex's nerves.

Finally, she tuned on her heal and limped out of the office. Alex scurried after in fear that he had already give himself away. She was only a high school principal. How could she be suspicious? Alex mentally noted her apparent suspicion as something to tell Wolf. It could be nothing, or it could be everything.

They entered into a silent hall of the main school building. The sound of Ms. Givens' cane slapping the polished marble floor vibrated up to the peak of the ceiling. Blue lockers lined the length of the hall and every ten steps the metal frame of a classroom door would approach. Alex casually glanced in each room. He noticed a pattern among the students. Half the class, seated in the back of the room, all wore the same serious and intense look. Their eyebrows were tilted inwards and their lips were pursed in a tight line. 'These must be the recruits', Alex thought. He followed the principal though what felt like the whole school before coming to a stop in front of a door.

"Check your schedule. You have world history first period. You are a few minutes late, but you are excused. If you are not in your seat before the bell rings, there is no warning. You will get detention. I don't care if this is your first day; you will show up for class on time." Ms. Givens peered at him over the rim of her granny glasses. "I trust you have read the rule book. If not, you will sill be held responsible. This is Mr. Miller's class. He will assign you a seat. Please, enjoy your classes and the rest of your day. Daniel."

Alex watched as his new principal walked away. A sharp pang of sorrow struck his heart at hearing himself being called Daniel. He was no longer Alex Rider, son of John and Helen Rider. He was now Danny Maccoy, and always would be.

Alex pushed open the door and walked uneasily into the room. He bit his lip and focused his eyes on the teacher, Mr. Miller, trying to ignore the obvious starting of the whole class.

"May I ask who you are?"

"I'm a new student," Alex supplied. "Danny Maccoy."

The teacher nodded his head. "Alright. Here's the worksheet we're working on. Please take a seat behind Mr. Tobby-Chris please raise your hand, thank you. Right behind him. If you have any questions, please ask your buddy."

Alex accepted the piece of paper, but as he was making his way past the teacher, his foot suddenly flashed out, tripping Alex. Alex stumbled, caught his balance, and was about to apologize when a hand flew towards his face. Alex instinctively whirled around and grabbed the arm in a tight grip. He looked up into the face of his teacher. He wore a broad smile and laughed.

"I was going to try and save you from a nasty fall, but it looks as if you can save yourself." A dangerous glint flashed in Mr. Miller's eye that sent a cold chill down Alex's back. "Welcome to Mount Shutlar, _Danny_."


	4. Escape

A/N: OK, I promised more action in this chapter so here it is. I do keep my word-remember that. (But please, feel free to forget that if, for any reason, I do not pull through.) Do I need to say thank you again for the reviews? No? Well, I'll say it anyways. "Thanks!"-A quote by Mpro1 on March 10, 2006. (That's how long ago I started writing this chapter…)

Please enjoy this chapter.

I forgot to mention in the last chapter but the disclaimer is back in the first chapter and always will be.

Alexandra Rider ((and anyone else who is wondering the same thing))Ok, thanks for the review(s). So, how should I put this? All right, how about this; Alex cannot really escape the MI6. No matter how far he runs or hides, eventually he will be caught. That is, assuming he escapes in the first place. If it were not the MI6, he has plenty of other dangerous enemies to keep him in check - wouldn't ya think? With Wolf keeping a _close_ watch on him, don't you think it'd be just a tad difficult to escape? And trust me to know the number of illegal immigrants that cross the American border each year. I am an American, first off, and second, there was a friend of mine who had a stepfather who was an illegal immigrant. But **chill**, his chance might be coming soon…or not…

_I am soooooo sorry_ this took like years to get to you; school work has been bogging me down, but the year is almost over so yea for that!D Lucky for you it's longer-as my consolation gift to all of you for "patiently" waiting…well, most of you, anyways…(it doesn't look longer, but it is by quite a bit since the A/N is shorter)

And one more microscopic note---I've gotten tired of my computer refusing to allow an extra space between paragraphs, so I'm putting ----------------------- ( that) to represent a change in scene. Ok, that's it, so TTFN!

---------------------------------------

Chapter 4:

Alex's hand flew from under the covers, slamming the snooze button of his cheap, duel purpose alarm clock. He groaned in protest as 'Ace' snapped the lights on. The bare bulb screwed into the ceiling of his room burned brightly, searing the lids of his eyes. Alex flipped away, yanking the sheets over his head. He easily slipped back into sleep under the comforting cover of darkness.

Alex gasped as a rush of cold air suddenly blasted his bare skin. He groped blindly for his covers, but finding none, lazily wrenched an eye open. Wolf stood at the edge of his bed holding a bundle of sheets and grinning wickedly.

"Morning, _Danny_," Wolf said loudly. "Time to get up. You wouldn't want to be late for your second day of school. Well, your first, really. Yesterday didn't-"

Wolf stopped suddenly to dodge a well-aimed pillow before retreating hastily out of the room.

Alex slowly brought himself to a sitting positing. He furiously rubbed the cold flesh of his arms feeling the Goosebumps that prickled his skin as they run beneath his hand. The touch of anything felt weird on his smooth, fingerprint-less fingertips. His body shivered in reflex at his own horrified disgust. Alex stared at them for a few minutes, divulging in his own sorrow. Blunt hadn't just permanently changed his name, but totally erased his existence. He felt like a shell of Alex Rider. It wasn't like his other mission where the feeling of loss had resided within him. The feeling was much more intense. Alex couldn't even have the satisfaction of blaming the MI6 as an agency. The fault lay solely with one man alone. Not even Wolf could be blamed for taking orders.

Alex looked across his room to the full size mirror mounted on his wall. His eyes widened in a familiar shock at his drastic change in appearance. He pulled his fingers through the thinned, jet-black hair that sat a top his head, and let his vision travel up and down himself. He finally let his gaze fall onto his eyes. They were hazel in color with bits of blue sparkling through like diamonds beneath the encompassing crust of dirt that hid their true value. This recently manufactured, military enhanced version of contact lens would not improve his vision, but more effectively disguise the color of his eyes and could be worn for countless days at a time.

He slowly detached himself from the comforts of his bed. The room itself resembled that of a particularly boring and ordinary boy. One wooden bookshelf, filled with academic books and wild tales of adventure in alternate universes, positioned itself behind the shadow of the window. Yesterday he had attempted to, in pent up rage, rip the flimsily curtains shut. They were torn and now dangled by a thread allowing rays of early morning sunlight to filter in. The bland ceiling had attached glow-in-the-dark planets and the floor was covered with a Persian rug that showed evidence of being bleached one too many times. He missed the abundant band posters and random gismos that decorated his old home with Jack and, at one point, his uncle Ian.

"Breakfast, kiddo!" The deep voice of Wolf floated up the stairs. "You want Cornflakes or Bran?"

Alex didn't respond but made his way down the staircase, taking in ever detail around him. Fake pictures of a baby and a couple whom he had never met lined the walls on either side of the stairs. He briefly wondered if they were innocent civilians or a part of the blasted MI6. As his foot extended towards the last step, Alex finally got his first chance to a good look of the house. Out of habit, Alex analyzed the room for all possible escape routs and, if he were to ever be in a fight, (A/N-_what are the odds of that?_) which parts would be beneficial, giving him the upper hand, and which corners would be potentially detrimental to his health. The striking lime-colored living room chairs that could pass as a cheep child's playroom furniture caught his eye. It fit their situation; two young men who could care less about the class and presentation of their house had purchased the first set of furniture that didn't dent their budget. The acrid smell of coffee lifted his gaze to the kitchen door that stood propped open by a heavy sack of rice. Wolf's arm shot across the doorway, effortlessly lifting the sack He heaved the rice atop the refrigerator, ignoring how it slammed bodily into the woodwork of the cabinets, dangerously clanging the dishes inside.

"Cub, gonna come join me or you gonna say hidden out there?" Wolf teased without turning around.

Alex scowled darkly as he stalked into the kitchen, refusing to respond though he itched to snap a nasty retort back. Alex looked deeply into his bowl of cereal, watching as the flakes gently crackled, soaking up the milk. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he realized this would be the start of his days for the rest of his life.

---------------------------------------

"Note books out, open and dated!"

The second hand on the clocked ticked loudly towards the hour as the last few students rushed into class. The history teacher rapped his marker on the white board, emphasizing on every syllable as his silky voice assaulted the class with a phrase that he made a point to repeat daily.

"Notebooks out and dated. Now, Mr. Maccoy, that includes you regardless of your relative newness to this school. Todd, I said note books out! That does not require chatting with James!"

Alex slowly pulled out his notebook, watching the class with an eye of interest. Half the class had snapped to attention the moment Mr. Miller had opened his mouth while the rest mulled around like normal reluctant students, daring to stretch out passing period for as long as they could. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he wondered what it would take to be recruited. Excess bad behavior? Maybe even Murder? Alex had learned his lesson missions ago to never underestimate the aggression of another agency-let it be Scorpia or the MI6.

"World War 2, Danny, can you name an event for me?" Mr. Millers question snapped Alex out of his stupor. He mentally ran through everything he had previously learned about WW2, which wasn't a lot giving that he had missed most of his Freshman year.

"Ummm…ahhh," Alex stuttered as he racked his brain. "Oh, D-day, I believe."

The teacher looked into his face for a long moment before slowly nodding his head. His coal black eyes bored into Alex as he walked away as if trying to mentally extract hidden information about the boy. Alex's shoulders sagged with relief as Mr. Miller looked away to address the class, and didn't look back. In fact, the teacher didn't even spare Alex a second glance for the rest of the period.

The bell rung, freeing the students from a lecture on the London Blitz and its aftereffects on the city and the war. Alex packed his bag in a fashion that expressed a clam and cool demeanor. Only seven more periods until the day was over.

Alex wandered down the halls of school, watching as each cliché traveled in packs together. A group of boys that strutted around with an air of confidence, rudely shouldered their way through the center of another group of boys. The other group appeared to be the boys Alex suspected to be recruits, their faces a mask of clam as they gazed coolly at Mr. Popular and co. Alex paused to watch the exchange, almost laughing at how stupid they appeared in contrast to the recruits.

"Fricken' losers, practically saluting every god-damn teacher that snaps a command," taunted the leader of the gang. His mates all rocked with laughter as the recruits continued to stair passionlessly in an unnerving way. Knuckles cracked as one heavyset boy began to loose his cool, his face darkening in a dangerous way. His arm drew back into the recognizable stance for a complicated and advanced karate move. A look of alarm momentarily flashed across the faces of the recruits before, once again, the dull blank look washed back over like a tidal wave. They hustled the boy away, softly murmuring words with a spiked edge into his ears.

Mr. Popular, as Alex had deemed him, smirked a victorious look, having not realized that his neck had just been spared from being snapped like a sapling under a giants foot.

Alex hesitated as he watched the recruits walk away. No motivation sparked the aggressiveness in him to complete his mission. If this had been any other mission, Alex would have already tried to befriend the recruits in attempt to get closer to the source. However, now, a completely different person for life had the next for years of high school to be recruited. There was no rush. After one more period school would be out, and his first chance of escape would present itself.

---------------------------------------

The bell's high pitch screech announced the end of another day at school. Alex hurriedly packed his bags, determined to slip out of the school from the back before Wolf could notice. That morning Wolf had said he'd show up at the front of the school where the buses and parents all came to retrieve their kids. The back was secluded, opening up to a dense forest, the perfect cover for an escape. Students chatted loudly, rumors spreading like wildfires and excited voices planning a fun trip to the fair that has come to town. Alex ignored this, speed walking through the mass towards the back gate. His nerves danced with excitement as it came into view. Identity or no, Alex hated to be controlled. He wouldn't allow Blunt to force him into a life that wasn't his. He's create a new identity, some way, and start a new life. In a few years, he could legally live by himself so all he had to do was camp out for the next couple of years. It would be a lonely life, but it was necessary if he wanted to slip between the iron grip of the MI6 and be rid of them once and for all.

Alex approached the gate, tugging on the thick padlock in irritation. Barbed wire lined the top pole of the fence, making climbing over a less than ideal method of escape. Alex quickly calculated the odds of getting over unscratched, the conclusion causing him to mentally wince but accept the evil necessity. He planted the sole of his foot between the flimsy wires and hoisted himself up. The fence gave, caving suddenly under his weight. Alex's fingers curled tightly around the rusting metal until the swaying stopped. His heart pounded as, one foot at a time, he slowly climbed towards the top. He paused when his eyes were level with the lowest spike of the barbed wire. It glistened dangerously in the sun, warning all who attempt to cross of the pain to come.

Alex carefully placed his hand between two of the barbed loops, lifting his foot as far as it would go. It was taking agonizingly long; Alex repeatedly glanced over his should as if expecting Wolf to come running with an automatic in his hand. He shifted his weight, sending the rickety fence into another sway as it tottered back and forth. The motion off-balanced him, forcing him to move or fall teen feet. A sharp pain burned in his calf as the wire tore through his skin. Alex swore loudly as he felt a warm liquid begin to run down his leg. He ignored the injury, climbing up and over without another scratch. When he was five feet above the ground, Alex jumped, his bad leg giving under the sudden burst of pain.

The silent forest lay open and inviting, offering a ticket to freedom. A real smile finally split across his face for the first time in days. He was about to become a free man.

---------------------------------------

An hour or two passed and Alex began to have his first doubts of getting out of the forest. No doubt, it could be big, but there hadn't been any sign of it ending. The pain in his calf had increased, slowing down his escape. The small amount of light that filtered in from between the overhang of the trees was rapidly diminishing. Chills of cold, pain, and fear ran down Alex's back. A feeling had been nagging at the back of his mind for quite a while now, as if something was out there, something dangerous.

Something solid slammed into his stomach, knocking the wind from his lungs. Alex gasped for breath as an arm wrapped itself around his chest, dragging him backwards. Alex clawed at the strong arm that held him captive as he struggled to regain his breath. Another arm hooked around his neck, pulling his head back into a chokehold. The hot breath of his captor whispered into his ear.

"You're good," the voice said, "I've looked everywhere for you. I'm amazed that you got this far." He chuckled softly, ignoring the demands from the teen to let him go. "Seems like you're walking with a bit of a limp, Cub. Obviously you're not good enough."

Wolf pressed a point on Alex's neck that turned the teen's world black. He caught the boy as he fell limp, then carried him to the truck parked a half a mile away. He sighed sadly, looking into the face of a boy who saved the world more than any adult operative the MI6 currently posessed. He realized, under all that wit and stealth the boy portrayed as his demeanor, he was nothing more than an orphan boy who longed for a family to love and be loved by.

"Alex, Alex, Alex," Wolf whispered into the soft breeze. "You'll never be quite good enough. Never."

---------------------------------------

A/N: Awwww, isn't that sweet. Wolf has a conscience… Anyways, PLEASE REVIEW! because they mean a lot to me. Don't ask what the last quote by Wolf means 'cause I haven't decided yet. Yeah, I know that sounds pathetic, but I'll come up with something. It's a perfect set up for…something…and a perfect place to end a chapter so I did. REVIEW!


	5. Something Unexpected

**A/N**: Do you want an excuse for why this took so long? I'm really good as excuses. Really! I'm good at BS'ing essays or coming up with reasons why I'm late for class. But I think the truth is better. Believe it people, here is the truth coming from a girl who writes about spies and their wonderful world of lies…….

I've actually come down with a disease the doctors have identified as WRITERS BLOCK. Yeah, it totally sucks but right now I can't do anything about it but procrastinate—and I've been doing quite a good job of that!!

Oh, and I've been LAZY. I've been drooling over Supernatural in my spare time (Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki are so HOT!!) Not, Grey's Anatomy. It seems like EVERYONE is watching that show. Is it really that good? I doubt it.

But I actually am completely sorry this has taken about—I dunno how many months anymore—to get to you. I can't promise that they're be coming every week now, but most definitely more often then twice a year. I've been taking medication prescribed by the doctors for this writers block, so I'm slowly, but surly, getting better. And I'm sorry if the writing here seems to fluctuate, more description, less, long-winded sentences then short and too the point, choppy writing and smooth….I think you get the point. Its just that I've written it over a long period of time where I just couldn't be satisfied with anything that I wrote. I hope it sounds fine.

You ppl have been so kind in your reviews (but so demanding)!!!! Luv you all!

Well, here's my story, the story of Danny Maccoy.

AlwaysMpro1

Ps- What would you guys think if were too write my own book??? Is it just a crazy idea, or do you think I can do it? I'm probably not good enough, but I was just wondering what you guys thought. Ok, umm, I'm just gonna go write chapter 5 now…

­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­

* * *

Something Unexpected

"Cub?"

The voice pulsed through his ears, vibrating in his head like the steady beat of a drum. His head felt compressed and heavy, his mind a groggy blur. Alex's arm shot out as he gripped the closest sturdy object, pinching his eyes closed from the room that swarm and warped like a fun house.

"Cub," the voice repeated, louder this time. "I need you to open your eyes. You lost quite a bit of blood, wandering about with that bleeding leg."

Wolf pried the boy's vice grip from his arm and stood, walking from the room. Alex lay atop the scratchy sheets of his bed, waiting for the waves of dizziness that crashed inside his head to recede. Seconds, marked by the soft ticking of his clock, passed before he dared to open his eyes. His brown eyes fluttered open, only to be greeted by two frowning Wolfs, both holding a glass of water.

The look in Wolf's eyes did not hold the same friendly gleam that normally greeted the boy. His mouth was pulled into a tight line and deep wrinkles creased his forehead. Wolf's dark eyes flickered to Alex's face before looking away with a tired sigh.

"How are you feeling now?" He asked with concern.

Alex didn't respond but tossed back the blankets and immediately began to inspect his wound. A thick bandage squeezed his calf tight. The pain was a deep throb, although he'd seen worse. Alex gently ran his fingers over the bandage, shivering again as the texture tingled the smooth skin of his fingertips. A soft cough brought his attention back to the handsome man that stood before him. Wolf's weather beaten hand slowly, as though he feared the boy's reaction, reached across before pulling the sheet back over his lower body and turning to face the MI6's reluctant operative.

"Alex," he nearly whispered. What he was about to say would not sit well with the boy. "Y-you can't do that again. You almost escaped. I know you don't want to be here. Hell, that's an understatement. I don't want to be here. I don't want to be doing this to you, but an order is an order. I had to…report our little ordeal and it's been advised—no—demanded, that I take precautions to prevent another incident. I'm so sorry, Cub, but you won't be able to leave my sight until I am satisfied that you are firmly rooted here or otherwise."

Wolf inhaled a deep breath, relieved that the worst was over. The cool confidence of authority once again coated his words like the sweet frosting of a cake as it covers a chef's uncertainties. "I will have to follow you everywhere. The school will be informed that you have a disease which requires someone's, specifically my, presence or else you may collapse, and if no proper treatment is diagnosed in time, you will die."

Only then, after all that needed to be said had fled his lips, did Wolf dare to meet Alex's eyes. A dark shadow passed over the boy's eyes that burned from the cold fire of hatred deep within heart. Wolf looked away. He couldn't take it.

* * *

Lunch in the cafeteria brought a small smile to his face. Alex couldn't help but snicker as he watched the familiar commotion of lunch-time chatter bend around the small group of students, who where no more than thirty, as they crowded around three tables in the center of the cafeteria. A hush spread as the students noticed his presence, wiping the smile off his face. So they'd heard. The entire school would know by now that he was sick little boy with a disease so rare Alex had his doubts of its legitimacy, but contagious or not, plenty of gullible people would rather keep their distance. Everyone's attention was focused on Alex and the man who stood behind him, feet spread shoulder with apart and an unreadable expression on his face. No one would have taken the man in Alex's shadow to be a medical personal, but the badge he wore spoke otherwise.

Alex slowly made his way towards an empty table in the back of the cafeteria. The bustle and chatter of the lunchroom gradually regained its normal intensity; first the suspicious whispers of the boys and the softly muttered gossip from the girls, then their attention slipped back to their earlier conversations. Only a few curious students continued to follow his every move, their eyes latched to his back. Alex sat down heavily, refusing to make eye contact with his medical assistant. He ignored the hand on his shoulder and the small squeeze for comfort, or the weary sigh that expelled hot breath on his neck. Finally, Wolf decided to say something, anything to get even the smallest sound from the boy. Alex had been mute since last night.

"Danny, you need to eat," he demanded in his most professional sounding voice, but asking a SAS commando to drop the steal edge from his words was requesting the impossible. "You need to eat, Danny, for your health."

At last, those troubled eyes peered into his.

"No, Ace," he said in a low and dangerous voice, "I am not hungry." Every word was a strain uttered through gritted teeth. "Would you like to eat this?"

Alex roughly shoved the tray towards his old friend and stormed from the cafeteria. Wolf watched the boy leave, his only hope for a brighter future disappearing as the double doors at the front of the room slammed shut.

* * *

Alex couldn't take it. He would never survive this mission. If the mission didn't kill him, Blunt would. Alex knew better than to believe that they would let him spend in dribs and drabs the rest of his days as Danny Maccoy. Once his usefulness had expired, so would his life. Alex approached the edge of the field and stood, shoulders slumped in defeat, eyes gazing at the fence that kept him captive. There were so many fences in his life. Wolf. The school. His name. None of which he could escape from.

Alex began to wheel in old memories and names of the people he had once called friends and family. He winced at the pang in his heart as he realized how difficult the simple task had become. Those nearly forgotten memories of his past life were slowly fading away. It wasn't enough to rip the life of Alex Rider from substantial existence, but that life was soon to be washed from memory and nothing left in this world could testify to his existence.

A hand on his shoulder snapped him out of his reverie. Alex knocked the hand of his shoulder, spinning around so his hair whipped across his face, bringing shadows to his already anger-clouded features.

"Wolf! I don't want to—"

He abruptly stopped when he turned to find the hand belonged to a girl. She backed up a bit at his aggressive response, her hand held at her side and a look of shock on her face and pity in her eyes. She was a pretty girl, her light brown hair shining in the sun as it framed the small smile she offered, the two rows of exposed teeth alleviated the awkward tension that hung between them.

Alex wasn't sure what to say.

"Umm," he said, running his hand through this hair and down to his neck where he messaged it uncomfortably. "Sorry, I though you were someone else."

The smile on her face grew wider.

"Oh, no worries!" She laughed it off, her voice setting him at ease. "I'm sorry I startled you. It's just that I saw you leave the cafeteria upset and I just wanted to make sure you were ok." She looked at him seriously. "Are you?"

He shrugged his shoulders noncommittally and tilted his head back towards the school. They began to walk, the girl waiting for him to answer.

Alex stopped and stuck out his hand, pulling on his most charming smile. "I'm Danny, Danny Maccoy."

She gripped his hand in a firm shake, pumping his hand up and down a few more times than necessary. "I'm Sasha. Erins." She finally dropped his hand and stuck them in the back pockets of her jeans. The silence carried on, neither of them sure what to say. Alex continued to stare straight ahead, taking cover behind the silence to hide the whirlwind of thoughts rushing through his head. Was she one of _them_? A recruit? She didn't seem the type but assassins were all about deceit and trickery. Luring you into a false sense of security before slipping a knife between your ribs and fleeing the scene of crime with no trace that they were ever there. He wondered momentarily where Wolf was. Would this girl really kill him? Had they found him out so quickly? It would save Blunt a lot of effort in cover-ups if she was the one to smear him from the living plane.

"So," she began, "what exactly are you sick with?"

Alex winced at the choice of topic. "Ahh, I don't really like to talk about it. Its serious, I guess, but I think the doctors over excaudate my chances of dying. I don't need Ace following me around everywhere. I haven't died, yet, have I?"

Sasha laughed at his attempt at humor. The sun was shining bright in the clear sky, the heat causing small beads of sweat to form around the edges of their hairline. "No need to play the tough guy around me, Danny. I get that enough from others. Actually, when I was little my mom had a disease that she always refused to acknowledge or take care of. Because she brushed it off, I naturally did too. But she died, Danny. All the sudden, one day, when I came home from school, she was lying on the ground. It was horrible, but that was a long time ago. The doctors said that if she had gotten the proper treatment then she might have survived."

Alex kneaded at his neck again. She was not making things any less uncomfortable. He was never the one for comforting others; he was usually the one with the problems. But comforting weeping girls went way beyond his ability—a soft pat on the back or a punch to the arm coupled with the words "suck it up" would not sit well with girls. Although she did not strike him as the type to fall victim to self pity.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled.

Sasha lugged open the massive doors to the school and waved away this help. She panted and faked exhaustion, motioning for him to go in. Alex was beginning to like this girl. She reminded him of Sabina, a do-it-herself kind of girl with a good sense of humor. When they got to her locker just down the hall, Sasha turned to him, wearing a sincere look, and gently grabbed his hand.

"Don't be sorry, Danny. It was a long time ago. Just take care of yourself, ok? I'll see you around, I promise." She began to turn away but quickly turned back, the sincere look fading behind an embarrassed flush. "Actually, I'm having party this weekend. It's my birthday. I hope I'll see you there. I'll introduce you to all my friends and if you hit it off like you did with me, well," that smile appeared again and a gentle tingling fluttered at the top of his stomach, "no one will consider you the 'new kid' anymore. Later, Danny."

Sasha gathered her books and walked away. Alex watched her go, that feeling in his stomach growing. For once, It wasn't the dread of impending doom, a pastime of his, and future as long as death driven organizations like Scorpia were clawing at his back and knocking on his door everywhere he turned. This was something different, much different.

The heavy thuds of footfalls approached at a rapid pace, but Alex took little notice. His instincts were dulled as the sensation washed through his body. A pair of strong hands spun him around by the shoulders, snapping Alex out of his stupor. He glared at Wolf and pulled away, looking back over his shoulder at the retreating girl.

"Where have you been, Danny! Dimmit, you coulda gotten hurt or worse! Don't—"

Wolf abruptly cut himself off as his eyes fell across the image that busied the boy's mind. He glanced down at the boy, recalling a time when he had relished in the pain he caused during their training, all those times he had shoved Alex in the mud and sent the boy off on missions he'd preset to fail. Laughter had racked the K-unit, stealing the air from their lungs and dropping them like files to the round where they had pathetically rolled around in delight. Every day Cub would drag himself past them, trying his best to ignore and quell his humiliation and hold back his tears. He at never seen Alex as anyone other than Cub, his charge and now friend, although he doubted Alex had much regard for anyone in the MI6. Getting a good look, Wolf realized why that girl had approached him. Alex Rider was a handsome boy. He probably just wasn't used to such attention being a spy and always away on missions or being out of commission due to injury.

A snicker rumbled Wolf's throat. He nudged Alex in the back, forgetting his earlier misgivings. "Good game, Cub. Good game."

Alex smiled. He might just have a reason to live.

**A/N**: Ok! I finally got you guys a chapter! It's ACTUALLY finished! Be proud of me! Now I realize some of you may not like this chapter because I've gotten a few requests to not bring a girl into this, but a promise she will be nothing more than a reason for my story to go on and an incentive for Alex to do his job! She'll be a minor character, don't worry. I no this chapter was a bit slower, but It was **longer **and it's setting up for some major plot turns and some serious action. Hope you liked it!

So PLEASE REVIEW! Luv all u reviewers!!


End file.
